


The Saints of Los Santos

by 1_800_HOT_MAMA



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Jack, GTA Universe, Grand theft auto, Los Santos, Strong Language, Trans Jack Pattillo, honestly the AH characters are secondary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_800_HOT_MAMA/pseuds/1_800_HOT_MAMA
Summary: Three sisters are separated at a young age and on their way back to each other, they become skilled at the arts of murder and organized crime. Their reunion is bitter sweet, but it turns out to be the calm before the storm.





	1. Avery Silberman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the rise and fall of a young Avery Silberman

I can’t open my mouth. There are no words wanting to push their way out. There are no thoughts running through my head, only emotion. I finally open my mouth to try to convince this strange man at my door that what he’s saying is a lie. But nothing comes out. I’m frustrated and scared, and god dammit this man is such a lying ass face! I know i’m not allowed to use these words but that doesn’t matter now. How can this man lie to a child like that.

The thoughts come pouring into my brain and with them come tears. Thoughts like, how can it be true? How can you say that? To my face, at that? What will happen to us now? What kind of sick twisted man would say those words so bluntly? I didn’t like his stupid face the moment I opened the door and now I know it’s because this man was no good this whole time. I can’t wrap my 8 year old mind around what’s happening and the more I try to pick one, just one, thing to say the more I’m sobbing. He speaks to me, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Avery, it’s going to be ok, you’ll go and live with your aunt and uncle, they’ll take care of you--”, and before he could finish his sentence, I’m running up to him and start pound my fists on his chest. I finally have one clear thought and it’s that this man is lying.

“NO!” I screeched, tears running down my face and soaking the stranger’s coat. Why would he lie to me? Why would he play this cruel joke to me and my sisters? We’re just kids. And why wouldn’t we just stay with Sandra’s mom? We might not be related to her mom but we’re related to her. Regina isn’t going to stand a chance with our aunt and uncle. What is this going to do to her? How can i protect her when the world is full of liars like him? 

“No, no, no, no, no!!!” I continue. He pulls me away from him, kneeling down to face me and gripping my arms tighter than an adult should handle a child. He leans in and whispers at me,

“Listen you little shit, you think it’s easy to find the address of car crash victims? Your unemployed, pot-head parents’ bodies were engulfed in flames and you act like it’s my fucking fault!” He starts raising his voice at me and I’m shaking, “You wanna live on the streets?! If you just shut the fuck up, maybe you and your sister will actually make it to your aunt’s house!” I think he might hit me. But once the words start making sense I stop crying and realize what I am to this man. I’m just another lower-class kid he has to deal with. Another kid that'll probably end up in jail in 4 years. Another job that should be easy. Pick the kids up, throw them at the closest scumbag relatives, and be on his merry way. 

I’m no longer scared, now I’m just angry. Angry at this low life cop who thinks I’m nothing because my parents didn’t make as much as him. Angry that this compassion less idiot is allowed to carry a gun. This man before me is a liar but not about what happened. He doesn’t care about upholding that law, he’s just another high school bully that didn’t make it through boot camp, so he became a cop. Using his power of authority for personal gain, not protection. He is the kind of bigot that the lower class should fear and yet is always assigned to the grittier part of town.

I pull myself out of his filthy hands and glare at him. I’m old enough to understand that we don’t have money. I know we don’t get Christmas presents every year but I’m ok with that because we still spend our holidays together. I know that if I don’t get a birthday party or present, it means my sisters and I are going to have new shoes next school year. But I also know that my parents aren’t bad people just because my dad got laid off and my mom couldn’t get a second job on top of child support for my half sister. 

I turn away from this jerk to go and get my younger sister. Once I find her, I drag her to our room and hand her a backpack. She can tell I’m upset and asks me what’s wrong.

“Don’t worry about it, Regina,’ I tried to explain. “Something awful happened to Mom and Dad. You’re going to go to live with our aunt and uncle while Sandra lives with her mom.” I knew that she would stand a better chance with them without me. They hated me ever since I had ratted them out about their drug addiction to my parents. But Regina hadn’t done anything to upset them, they’ll at least try to keep her alive if they know she’s no longer affiliated with me. I know a little about the gangs around here from the kids I go to school with. Or I guess now it’s going to be went to school with. I know that if i can do small jobs for the smaller gangs they’ll pay me with food and shelter. So at least i have a plan.

But Regina is young, well younger than me. She isn’t quite aware of how to avoid danger, she’d still step right into the middle of the road to save a kitten, so staying with adults for the time being is her best option of survival. I know I’m abandoning her in this world but maybe she’ll understand that in emergencies like this: physical needs are a bit more important than emotional needs.

And so I ride with her in the police car until we get to our aunt’s shack of a house, and that’s when I make my get away with a small backpack of essentials and tears in my eyes.

\----------

A six years has passed now since I left Regina by herself and Sandra who wasn’t even with us the night it happened. I have thought about them every damn day and every night since our parents died. I wonder how they’re holding up. I hope they’re holding up better than me. I can’t remember the last time I spoke to someone I didn’t have some sort of agenda with. My knuckles have become calloused with all the self defense and offensive actions I’ve had to take to make a place for myself on the streets. But I’m once again pulled away from the thought of my sisters as I stand in an alley at noon, talking to a grown man like he’s a 5 year old in the candy section of a grocery store.

“How many times have I told you, I don’t want to join your shitty gang? Joining isn’t going to do anything for me that I can’t already do for myself. All I want is the paperwork you promised me.”

“Listen, we’ve got plenty need for those pretty little hands of yours, and we would make sure you had all the toys you wanted.” Wow, pervy _and_ subtle.

“How old do you think I am, fuck head?” I inquired. Now i'm starting to get annoyed. This isn’t the first time some smaller gang has approached me for some twisted reason or another, hell this isn’t the first time this man in particular has made me an offer. I think his name is Jake or something?

“Sweetheart, it’s not ok to be so young and alone in this cruel world, all I’m offering is protection from this sca-wy, sca-wy place,” he said those worlds as if talking to a toy poodle. “Living on the streets is no way for an 8 year old such as yourself to live her life.” I’m starting to roll my eyes now at the age he gives me and I notice he’s slowly getting closer. He probably thinks he can get the jump on me by being “gentle”. “All we ask in return is that you do the boss and some of the boys a few little favors here and then. How’s that sound?

“Ok first of all,” I begin, pulling my gun out nonchalantly and in the same motion putting my other hand on my out-standing hip. “I’m a little older than your boss probably prefers. And secondly:” I put a free finger in my mouth and made the most cartoon-ish vomiting sound I could muster while doubled over. Hopefully, to present him with just enough vulnerability to get him to make his final move. Jason, or whatever the fuck his name is, furrowed his eyebrows and took a step to grab me so I just shot him in the knee. “Fuck you, pedo.” I spat at him, grabbing an envelope that contains a new identity for myself. A poor girl named Avery Smith that died at 14, lucky that I happen to be 14. I walked away shaking my head and sliding my gun back into my make-shift holster on my lower back. Now I know what I’m doing tonight. Get this “boss” off the streets and into history. Fun. God that was the worst line ever, I need to remember never to use that ever again.

\----------

Shit. Fucking… All I feel is pain. It’s already been a week since I scraped my ankle during that job but it’s not getting better. What did i scrape it on? A petri dish of tetanus? God fuck. I think Julio told me where I can get the drugs to stop the swelling and pick up some antibiotics but I can’t remember the address through the red that I see. God, was it a guy or a pharmacy? Ok so I remember the intersection it’s on, shadier part of town so it must be a guy. Fucking Jesus, yeah no I am not walking. Maybe Julio can give me ride since he knows the guy so fucking well. Fuck Julio. Damn him and I hope he sits on a bottle opener and screws his asshole. Maybe I’m being too harsh, he’s not too bad. He’s the only other 16 year old in a gang that actually likes me so maybe I should be nicer to him?

Ok so after I calmed down Julio said he would take me but he had a date with his boyfriend right after so he couldn’t stay to be my ride home. I get out of the car and wish him luck on his date. This building is kind of small, but the door says something. Shit, it’s a pharmacy; which means this is going to be super difficult to pull off. But god, does my ankle hurt. With a sigh I trudge on to find the back entrance to this business. Once I’m in, I’ll need to move quickly: locate the drugs fast and then run like hell so the cops don’t get to me. With a large inhale I pick the lock and limp in. I scan the shelves in the back here looking for clear words like “anti-inflammatory” and of course “antibiotic”. Oh no, all of these bottles are written in Latin or something?! It’s almost like they don’t want junkies coming in and stealing all the strong stuff.  
Fuck! I turn the corner too hard and twist my infected ankle, just as I’m getting up I hear police sirens. Too late. I have to get out of here before they see me too close to the building and put two and two together. I stand on my ankle and start seeing stars. I break into a sweat and collapse, the pain is too much, I can’t crawl out in time. Maybe if I go easy they’ll get me some medical help. The door crashes open and the last thing I see is a flashlight on my face before the dick hole knocks me out.

What’s going on? Where am I? Shit I have the worst headache. I when I’ve finally calmed down and am able to focus on my surroundings, I realize I’m in a hospital bed. I go to brush my frizzy, curly hair out of my face and meet resistance on my wrist. So they handcuffed me? Can’t blame them. They didn’t have to hit me on the head though. I look across the bed to see my reflection looking back. When was the last time I saw my own face? Not that I never had access to mirrors, I just avoided them the bet I could. I really can’t stand to look at me, knowing that I abandoned Regina the way I did. God how long has it been? As a think on my past actions, I just sit there staring at my hazel eyes. I look like shit. Long brown hair knotted and wild. Pale skin bruised and dirty. 

I suddenly realize that there is a nurse and a police officer standing in the doorway. They must have just walked in because they definitely weren’t here when I first woke up. The nurse walks up to me and I watch the direction that the male police officers eyes turn as she stands in front of him. Are seriously all cops scum bags? I’m sure there must be a few who at least started out with good intentions. I blink my lids rapidly as I realize the nurse has just asked me a question.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat yourself?” I ask, not really recognizing my own voice.

“I asked you for your name sweetheart, we need it for the records.” She smiled as if it was a force of habit. So I spelled my name out for her, not bothering to say it out loud first because that’s just how I forced myself to remember my new name. “Ok Miss Smith,” she continued, “This is officer Reynolds, he’s going to keep you protected until we can release you.”

“You mean he’s going to babysit me until he can personally throw me in jail? Let me guess you were the one who gifted me with a minor concussion?” I said, directing the whole sentence at Reynolds.

The nurse smiled apologetically. “Sorry sweetie, I understand why you broke into that building but you still broke the law, I talked to the prosecutor and they’re willing to keep your jail time at six months if you agree to cooperate and go through a work program.” I look back at her, softening my eyes so she knows I’m both grateful and not angry with her in any way. I realize now that she doesn’t smile out of habit, she probably just got hell from the police and her boss by trying to get this deal for me. I look down at my feet and pull the covers to reveal the ankle that was once infected. It looks a lot better and I know from the look of it that I probably won’t be able to do any jobs for a while. I look back up at her and nod my head. The police officer cracks his knuckles and walks out the door to talk to his superiors. 

I’m lead out of the hospital the next day with a cast, a wheelchair, and handcuffs. I’ll spend my month in an all women's prison. They convicted me as an adult even though I’m only 16. Which is even weirder since I’m only staying for a month. The bus ride there is weird and quiet. Everyone else kept looking at me with a mixture of confusion and understanding. 

Once I got there, a guard pulled me aside and took me to warden’s office. The warden just sat me down and explained to me that a little girl such as myself should watch my back in a place like this, because even though they’re all women, it doesn’t mean they’ll show me any kind of compassion. Then he told me about a program that I can sign up for now that will guarantee that I’ll have a job when I get out, but I have to start here by doing chores that pertain to one of a list of jobs to choose from.

I checked out the list and found a chore I thought would be worth my time, relaxing but also physically demanding enough to keep me in shape. I told the warden that I’d like to keep the gardens on the premises, if that was ok. 

“Darling,” he said in a southern drawl. “I could give less of a fuck what you do as long as you stay out of trouble.” And boy did I want to stay out of trouble.


	2. Regina Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows where Regina Silberman is now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i edited a little bit in this chapter because i had forgotten i tweaked Regina's back story just a little after originally writing this. So apologies to anyone who read this before the changes.

‘...oops…’

I stared at the unconscious man’s bloody face and sighed, knowing I’d have to wait until he woke up to get my answers...and I was growing impatient.

  
It had been 6 years since the dreadful 1-800-468-6262 phone number came into my life and decided to fuck up all of my major heists and deals. I wanted that shit done and over with, but he kept popping up in the absolute worst times, and I could never get enough info to make any lasting damage on him.

  
“Move him to the bed; chain him to it if need be. Report to me as soon as he wakes up.”

  
Richard gave me a nod of understanding, and I left my Think Tank to meet Crystal; I was hopeful of- and needing- some good news.

  
As I walked through the underground area of the basement level of my apartment, I walked fast and determined, trying not to pay any attention to the men staring at me with a mixture of shock and fear sprawled across their incompetent faces.

  
I waited, fairly impatiently, for the elevator to just show up already just so that I could go to my best friend and talk to her about our next heist plans. But everything was being stupid and dumb and I wanted everything to go my way already, dammit.

  
When the elevator finally fucking showed up, I stomped on, shooed anyone and everyone off, and pressed the penthouse button; obviously the drug lord needed the best place to live with her right-hand woman who doubled as the head of security. I pressed my metal card into the indented panel and touched my thumb to the scanner. The elevator immediately began taking me up to the top floor.

  
‘Oh god, mental note to myself: change the fucking elevator music to shit people actually listen to.’

  
I got off the elevator, in a worse mood than when I got on, and my footsteps clicked in annoyance as I walked down the hall. When I finally up to the penthouse, I walked through the elevator doors and directly into the entryway.

  
“I really hope you have some good news for me,” I called out to Crystal, assuming she was within earshot and was ready with my news.

  
“Um. Well. It’s really how you define...good news. News is just news, really, if you think about it-”

  
“Crystal, you little shit. Just tell me,” my patience was growing thinner and thinner by the second.

  
“Well, the art gala is going to be held tomorrow night instead of in two weeks...Richard already knows and put you on the guest list, put a few of our guys in as the servers, and hacked into the camera feed. What they see is what we see.”

  
“God dammit. How about our target? Do we know where he is?”

  
“I’ve already got some more of our men following his every move; they keep me updated every half hour.”

  
I nodded in appreciation and walked passed her to the kitchen to get some medication for my headache when a sudden, random-ass memory flooded my mind.

  
_“Get your things. I need you to get up, come on. I know it’s past your bedtime, but we need to go to our aunt and uncle’s house. Hurry up, I can’t wait for you all day.”_

  
_She burst into my room while I was half asleep and in bed, and wouldn’t listen to any of my complaints about it being too late at night to be sneaking out of bed to get the cookies from the hidden jar. Something was off, and I felt it. I just couldn’t understand it._

  
_“What’s going on? Why are you yelling at me? Why is there a police officer glaring at you?”_

  
_“Just calm down and pack as many things as you possibly can.”_

  
_Now, being 6, I got scared at the tone of voice she was using and didn’t pack the necessities I actually needed; I only packed the random shit that wouldn’t matter in two weeks time._

  
_I followed her out to the entrance to our apartment, lugging my suitcase filled with snacks, two pairs of clothing and as many stuffed animals as I could fit. I held my favorite fuzzy blanket very close to me and wore it like a cape._

  
_“What’s going on?” I yawned and asked for the hundredth time to both my sister and the police officer escorting us away from home._

  
_“Something awful happened to mom and dad. Now be quiet, everything will be just fine, I promise.”_

  
I kicked the corner of the fridge, and it snapped me out of my memory trance. Cursing under my breath and ignoring Crystal’s snickers at my misfortune, I grabbed my migraine pills and some water. After chugging them down, I walked back to Crystal.

  
“What else do we need for preparations?”

  
“Nothing, really. But we should get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be hectic, and you know you’ll get stressed.”

  
I rolled my eyes at her true statement, bid her goodnight, then went into the room right next to my master bedroom.

  
“Hello, Ben. Are you hungry? I have your dinner ready.”

  
I held out my hand towards Ben and let her waddle over to me, her cute fluffy snout sniffing at my hand.

  
“Oh, you are such a good girl. Yes you are. You were a very difficult animal to get, but guess what? Crystal didn’t stop and she got me the cutest little red panda she could find. And here you are. You’re so cute,” I cooed at Ben as she ate her dinner right in front of me.

 

When she was done, she sniffed at my hand to see if there was any more food for her, then flopped on her back so that I could scratch her tummy.

  
“Aw, what a cutie. Of course I’ll pet you. But I gotta go to bed soon, ok? Ok. That’s enough. Good night, Ben.”

  
I walked out of the room with Ben trying to follow me, then went into my room and quickly got ready for bed.

  
I flopped on my mattress, scooted under the covers, and was out like a light.

\---

  
I see very clearly the night the police busted through my aunt and uncle’s door. They had just told me to stop asking about my sister.

  
_“She’s dead! Isn’t obvious? She was a little kid and she thought she could live on the streets! What, you think people just give food and shelter out for free?"_

  
_My uncle pushed me away as he shot up some heroin. I was disgusted at the tone of his voice, and I think in denial about what happened. I wanted to stab the needle in his eye._

  
_Right after I stormed out of the kitchen and slammed myself down in the couch, multiple police officers burst through the door, arresting my aunt and shooting my uncle in the leg. One of the neighbors must have finally had enough of my high relatives._

  
_In the confusion, a police officer had put me in his car and I was on my way to the foster system. I hadn't even been given the chance to pack my things. The police officer drove into the night while I cried silently in the back seat. After my emotions calmed down, I came to terms with the fact that after 3 years, Avery was most likely dead, and Sandra was never coming back._

  
\---

  
I woke up with a start. My heart was pumping just like it was the first night I slept in a stranger's house. I remember having moved from place to place for 3 years, never in one place for more than 5 months.

  
I sat up rubbing my eyes; I’m so lucky that my life turned out the way it did, but it saddens me to remember the hardships. But without them, I wouldn’t be here with the second largest empire in Los Santos.

  
With all the legitimate businesses I own and the huge drug business I’ve got, I had hoped to be a little bigger but my team just doesn’t have the connections, media attention, or charisma of the Fake AH crew. Those cocky bastards.

  
I get dressed and start my day, not thinking about my dream. I had gotten over my sister leaving me to think for myself years ago. I know that if it weren’t for her actions, I would never have gotten everything I wanted.

  
I guess it’s time for my meeting with Crystal. She was already walking towards my door when I closed it behind me.

  
“So everything is on schedule,” she started. “I have all the ‘wait staff’ over there setting up.” We started walking out of the apartment and were waiting in the elevator to go back to the Think Tank.

  
I inserted my metal key card into the slot and pressed the button marked -2.

  
“We have a few guys by the dining hall trying to find a good place to park our surveillance van,” Crystal continued next to me, “and we’ve already got our transport vehicle in position in the back of the building.”

  
The doors of the elevator finally opened to reveal my Think Tank. I walk over to the holding cell. This one holds the prisoner I’m certain has dealt with the asshole that’s been running around and fucking up my “business ventures”.

  
I open the door to see the man with his disheveled suite crying in the corner, his face bloody and snot running almost into his mouth. Richard had tied this idiot’s hands behind his back and to the steel, cushion-less cot in the small cell.

  
When the door slammed shut, the filth that was huddled in my building’s dungeon flinched and started sobbing even harder.

  
“Oh stop, you’re a grown ass⎯” Crystal started, but I put my hand up to quiet her.

  
“Now, now Crystal,” I gently explain, “He’s allowed a sob or two, after all: torture is emotionally draining and psychologically scarring.” I finish my sentence with a smirk to show my useless Helper that there are consequences for not cooperating.

  
“So,” I continue, taking out my brass knuckle knife, The Force, and taking a seat close to our squirmy Guest, “Do you conveniently remember what it is I need to know? I have a party to attend this evening and I’d hate to waste time here when I could be getting ready.”

  
The man was quivering in his place, eyes and mouth tightly shut; the wounds from last night already starting to heal. I stand up with a sigh and grab his hair with my right hand, exposing his throat to press my knife against it with my left hand. I barely said a word before he burst out with a wail.

  
“I already told you everything I know!! Please don’t kill me! All I did was text the number! I never interacted with anyone! I dropped off the money at some warehouse and the job was done in 24 hours!” I backed off a little, annoyed with his redundancy. But then, I guess seeing my displeasure and wanting to fix it in anyway, he added some personal opinions that he hadn’t yesterday.

  
“I was surprised he even took the job, it was just a small debt the guy hadn’t paid off in months. My men and. I didn’t have the tools to find him or the talent to kill him without leaving no evidence. One of my bodyguards gave me a clack business card with just the number in silver writing.”

  
“What was this guard’s name?” I inquired, my voice keeping its calming tone.

  
“Shit… I can’t remember,” He started panicking, “It was either John… or Stefan!”

  
“Thank you for your compliance,” Crystal said. I took that opportunity to knock him unconscious. On purpose this time. After the door shuts behind us I turn to Crystal.  
“I want your men to drug him so much that he questions his existence and leave him exactly 10 miles away from his house.”

  
“Got it,” she responded, looking down at her phone, notifying the proper people to get the job done. “Now I think it’s time for breakfast.”

  
\---

  
I wash my dishes and the egg pan, despite Crystal’s protests, and head over to my room to take a shower. I undress in front of the mirror and examine the flesh that is on display in front of me.

  
I’ve gotten tan since the summer started only a month ago, but I can tell it’s only from work as my torso is left pale. I set my glasses on the counter top and wash away the makeup I had on.

  
I don’t know why I would do my make up earlier. I mean I already knew that I was going to shower later so I’m cleaner for the Event. Man I wish I looked older. Then maybe I would get respect without makeup.

  
Right as I’m taking my hand away from my face I get another flashback. Oh god please…

  
_I’m sitting in a room with a man. He’s sobbing about how he promises he’ll get me my money, he just needs one more day. Please don’t hurt him, he has a daughter not much older than me. I’m annoyed. This guy has used his daughter to buy him a week longer than I’d let most scum bags take to pay my gang back._

  
_I have a feeling that this lapse of judgement is going to count against me with the boss man. I look him in the eye and tell him straight up that I’ll only allow it because his daughter has been helping him pay it off bit by bit behind his back._

  
_This news seemed like a shock to him so I smirked. “You have one more day, but you need to act with dignity and fix your own mistakes. As hardworking as your daughter is, you can not expect her to carry both of your weights around.”_

  
_The next day I find out that he tried fleeing the city and died in a car crash just before the city limit. Typical. So I immediately talked to the boss to get the douche’s not-so-douche daughter recruited into our gang._

  
_She learned to scam from her father, that’s how she could make so much money. She was a great actress, so she was able to pan handle without passers by realizing what was going on. And with a father who gambled his grocery money, she had learned very fast what not to do._

  
_I found her counting money in a crack house. She was sober and recognized me as the person who dealt with idiots who got loans from my gang. She panicked for a moment until she realized my soft and cool demeanor._

  
_“Crystal Jones?” I inquired, already knowing the answer. “I'd like you to join the gang. Promise it’ll be mutually beneficial.” She looked hesitant at first but then stood up to accept my outstretched hand._

  
_“Stick with me kid, if all goes to plan” I said with a single eyebrow raise, “we’ll be running this show in no time.”_

  
\---

  
I woke up on the bathroom floor, red matting my copper-blonde hair above my right ear. Small bump, no major damage. This is going to be a long day.


	3. Richard Muleson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows young Richard Muleson, and how he came to Los Santos before joining Regina's gang.

I was always smarter than all the other kids. My parents knew it from a very young age, but I wasn’t fully aware of this fact until I got a letter in the mail a month ago, from a prestigious college, asking me to come learn from them. And not even asking me, begging me. I mean, I like computers and all, but that doesn’t make me a genius, does it? According to the California Institute of Technology, it does. So with a month’s notice and a full-ride scholarship, I left my cozy home in Los Santos and went to a university at the ripe age of 16.

On the car ride over there, I thought of all the ways my life would be different. My friend status would stay the same. I only talk with a few guys online anyway, so I wouldn’t lose any friends. I might gain a friend for a month and then stop putting in any effort into the relationship. But, being an introvert, I definitely can live with that. I get to keep my cat, Hericlitus, which is awesome. But now I have to live on my own. I have to buy my own food. I’ve been so used to my huge room, (and my game room, and the overflowing kitchen) that even living in a dorm by myself seems really scary.

I’m surprised I even accepted this opportunity. Change really scares me, but I guess my parents would have killed me if I didn’t accept this academic scholarship. So I make my way up to my room with my small amount of belongings, trying not to make eye contact with any of the students loitering around the building. I heard them whisper about how i must be the genius kid they heard rumors about. I think that’s the first time I’ve participated in a rumor. It’s not fun at all. There is a person standing in my way with a lavender mohawk and an obnoxiously orange shirt that writes, “How Can I Help?” in comic sans.

Oh no I’ve made eye contact, “How can I help?” they ask me, in comic sans.

“Um, yeah, my name is Richard Muleson. I guess you could help me find my room? The number was 421?” I didn’t really want help but I’m not sure i want to look like a fool walking around the building with all my stuff tucked under my arms. So willingly talking to a person was the better option. They lead me up 3 flights of stairs all the way to the fourth floor. They show me the elevator, which I’m pissed now that this person would take me up so many stairs if there was an elevator even closer to my room. They’ve stopped and I almost run into them but I’m able to stop myself before it comes to that. 

I open the door and notice the one bed in a room that could easily fit two. “So how long will you be going to school here?” The helpful person asks.

“Um, if I go at the rate that I’ve mapped out for myself, I’ll get my doctorate in 4 years.”

They looked at me like I was crazy for suggesting such a thing, but noting my age decided to make a different comment, “Class of 2014, all right!” And prompted to raise their hand in a high five. I dropped my cat’s crate, warranting a hiss from the cream colored munchkin cat, just to return this high five. Lavender hair finally left me in peace and I started setting everything up in the room that I’m guessing my dad pulled a few strings to get me. I put all my cloths in the dresser, all of my pillows and sheets on the bed, my computer and games on the desk, and the bed and litter box on the ground for my cat. Classes don’t start until Monday, so that means I have 3 days to explore campus. I’m probably going to end up playing my video games the whole time.

[ ]

I remember when I was young, my dad broke his computer. He dropped it trying to get some cables plugged in behind the desk it was sat up on. As soon as it hit the floor, the shell broke open and all the sharp insides were exposed. I remember looking at all the circuits, itching to figure out what it all does. I was 10 when it happened, my father gave me the parts to amuse me. I had already fixed up a game boy by then. He probably thought that it was too advanced, even for me. But there i was, an hour later, giving my dad this computer and claiming that I had fixed it. He plugged it all in and i was right. I guess it was a hard thing to do for a 10 year old with no prior knowledge.

He immediately shot out of the room and made a phone call to his friend at a research facility. About two days later there were a bunch of men in my home, asking me math questions, philosophical questions, and other things that i thought made it the easiest test in the world. Today I know that my answers were that of a college graduate and that I was never going to have a very normal life.

I guess I was mostly right about that. I mean, I lived in a middle class household. I have a mom and a dad, three older sisters, and a cat. Everything except that lack of friends and the contempt from all my teacher. Most people hated me because I always acted like everyone was dumb. But honestly, they were, because I already knew all the answers to any lesson and they took too long to figure it out. I tried to hide it but the teachers were always so pissed at me that they would purposefully call on me to mock me for knowing more than them. 

Unfortunate how that cycle worked: I knew more than them, so they hated me, so they singled me out, so I was able to show time and time again that I knew more than them, and so they hated me even more. One professor tried to trick me, six months ago, by telling me there were at least 10 bugs in a program that ran smoothly, and if i didn’t fix all 10 he would fail me, so I ended up re-writing all of the code and made it exactly 10 times more efficient. He turned in his resignation to the dean that quarter, but at least I passed the class.

Now I just have two more years to go. My bachelors is out of the way this quarter and I just have to figure out what my huge programming project is going to be to get me my doctorate. But i wish i wasn’t so lost in thought, because someone is running after my calling my name, must have ignored him as I passed by. The man who is now standing next to me, out of breath, is holding a briefcase in one hand and pushing a thick, pamphlet-like wad of papers in my face with the other.

“Um, I’m sorry, but do I know you?” I inquire, a lot ruder than I intended. Man, off to a great start with someone I’m just now meeting.

“Oh, no, but my boss knows you! My name is (something I forgot immediately) can I have a second of your time?” And just before I was going to decline he continued talking, “You see, my employer owns a large company that transfers a lot of sensitive information around, quite a bit. We have had our eyes on several talented programmers, but none of them shine in the way you do. Please tell me you’ll come and work for us, as soon as you’ve graduated?” 

The man talked out of breath, seemed very desperate, and was sweating a whole lot, which was just the right combination to make me feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure how to react but this guy looks happier than he did earlier. And why is he pulling me into a hug? Shit.

“Thank you so much Richard! You don’t know what that’s going to mean to my company! The profits we’ll make! We’ll be in touch with you soon!” He starts walking away before I can back track. “You’re going to be rich my boy!” He’s even farther away now as I’m starting to find my voice again. “Oh Mr. Henry will be so pleased when I tell…” His words got as small as he was getting before I could start having a panic attack. What did I just agree to? 

At this point I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.

[ ]

As the night of graduation comes to an end. I shake hands with a few people that might know me but leave on the bus alone. I don’t have anyone to celebrate with, just a dorm room to pack. I already started a little bit of debugging work for Henry & Company so I have enough money to start renting a new place back in Los Santos.

Wow, now that I think about it, I lucked out on this new job. The guy who wanted to hire me, Mr. Henry, wanted me purely for my skills. I’m not sure where he’d heard about me. It’s all a bit weird but it’s a good idea for me to shake things up a little bit.

As soon as I got to my room I packed everything into boxes and bags. My computer and monitors all get their own bubble-wrapped boxes. But my books can share space with blankets and clothing. I’m not sure i need all these books. I decide to put all the books I don’t need anymore into a box to try and sell when I get to Los Santos. Maybe before I go, depending on how much room I’ll have in the company car they’re driving me down in.

Henry and Company have been very nice to me ever since I talked to them last month about my arrangement. My nervousness came off as aloofness so they’re giving me anything I want just to keep me around. It’s not too bad considering I accidentally accepted the job. They were even more keen in getting me to work for them after I submitted my doctoral project. They were impressed with the AI I put together, even though it was last minute and most of it is hypothetical.

Shit. Ouch. I guess, while I was deep in thought, I gave myself a cardboard cut on this last box. I reach for a tissue and see my cell phone next to me with the screen lit up. Shit again, 5 missed calls from my new boss. I quickly bandage my finger and am able to answer on the 6th call.

“Hello Richard, we have a few different apartments that will fit the price range you had told us.” The man on the other end was someone named Alan. He had been directly working on getting me as comfortable in this job as possible. He also has a nasty habit of talking before I was really ready to listen. 

And here he goes, continuing, “I hope you realize that the price range you gave us is far lower than you can afford, so in the email I sent you I included a few listings that would be more appropriate for the salary you’d be receiving.”I rolled my eyes at this statement. These people know I’m a genius, but they must think I’m stupid for assuming an 18 year old couldn’t think of their future and actually save money.

“All you have to do,” he said, wrapping up, “is chose which one you like and you will automatically be approved because of your affiliation with us.” He was finally done talking, it was too late in the phone call for me to apologize for missing his call. I hate it when Alan does this to me, it always leaves me feeling weird. So I guess I’ll have to get over it and respond to him already.

“Thank you, Alan. I appreciate it a whole lot. I’ll reply to your email right now, I’m just packing things up. Sorry I missed your call.” Wow. Stupid. But as I’m catching myself he hung up the phone leaving me to make my decision. 

I don’t much, just enough room for my games and the ability to have my cat. I grab my laptop and open the email to see the options I have for my new home. I see a lot of extravagant penthouses until I scroll all the way down and see the options in the price range I wanted. Much better. After looking into the details I found one that looks perfect. 


	4. Sandra Silberman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We follow the path of Sandra and her struggles in Los Santos

 

It had been a while since I had been back to my dad’s house and my mom never told me why. At least not at first. I was already 13 when they had their accident, but for the sake of manipulating me into thinking they didn’t want me anymore, she kept it a secret. I wasn’t until a week ago that I figured out otherwise. And now I sit here with my mom at my 18th birthday dinner, knowing the truth but not knowing how to confront her about it.

 

“Why haven’t you touched your dinner?” My birth mother inquired. “We came all the way out here to an expensive restaurant only for you to stare at your food?”

 

I looked at her for a bit, trying my hardest not to look betrayed and all I can manage is: “It was a long at the shelter, I had to put down 3 animals.” It's been awhile since we moved back to Los Santos, but I don’t expect to stay much longer. Now that I think about it, I think bringing up moving out is a much better option than having to ask her why she let me think my family hated me for all these years.

 

“So my boss at the shelter is going to retire,” I began, looking down at my plate. “He said that it’s going to be hard for him since he lives in the building, but he offered to let me have the place if I wanted to take over.” And refusing to make eye contact, I let my mom think this over, knowing very well she wasn’t going to like it.

 

“Well, I didn’t think you took such a small job so seriously.” She almost spat out, but being in a public place she was able to keep a calm a pleasant exterior. I set my fork down and took the cloth napkin off my lap. Finally looking her in the face.

 

“It’s very much a serious job, especially if I’ll be running a legit business. You don’t need to stay here just because of me, move with the transfer like you originally planned. I’ve already made my decision I won’t be an inconvenience any longer.” She tried to speak and I started again.

 

“You need to stop treating every job I get into as something a 16 year old gets over the summer when you’re the reason we move around in the first place. I _can’t_ get a serious job because I might need to move again in a month or two. “ I’m standing now and talking loudly as all eyes are on me. I’m as shaky as my voice is. My mom is getting angry at the attention I’m putting on her.

 

“You make my life nomadic and then have the audacity to act like it’s because I don’t have my life put together. My life would be better without you controlling it! It would have been better if my dad hadn’t died!” and with that I thanked her for dinner and left the building. I call a cab, as we had driven to the restaurant together, and cry in the back seat.

 

I’m still shaking. I really could have handled that better, but it feels like everything is just piling up. First I had my doubts that my dad would just refuse to pick me up. That didn’t seem to be in his character, even at the time. I feel like, as horribly as my evening might have gone, this was the only way I might be free of her. Assert myself as a different person. Let her know she can’t get to me anymore.

 

Even so, I can’t tell where that came from, I never thought I could muster up the energy to be that direct with my mom. Maybe realizing all that she had put me through gave me the courage to make that leap off the edge, but I know I’m not letting her get away with it ever again.

 

When the cab got to our apartment, I ask him to stay so I can pack all of the things I have in my name into 2 suitcases and a large box. He’s nice enough to help me get everything into the taxi and even protects me when my mom drove up drunk and trying to fight me.

 

I pay the taxi driver after he drops me off at the shelter and knock on the door of my boss’s home. It’s passed working hours, so I hope he doesn’t think I’m a customer and ignores me, but I hear footsteps on the other side of the door. I hug the box in my arms even tighter and wait for the lock sounds to stop. The door opens up and the manager of the shelter, Joaquin, looks at me surprised.

 

“Sandra?” he exclaims “What are you doing here?” I look at him with tears pooling in my eyes but not overflowing quite yet. I breath in deeply and try to find the words to describe how my evening has been going, without sounding like I expect anything from Joaquin.

 

“I was just here,” I begin, hesitant, “to let you know that I was going to accept your offer.” I can’t hold these tears back any longer. Before I can speak my next words, tears are streaming down my face. I start sobbing and Joaquin pulls me into a hug.

 

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

 

It’s been awhile since I got the place to myself, but I think it still feels surreal. My mom went ahead and moved again so i don’t have to worry about her, but i still feel uneasy. I think it might be because I haven’t gotten any word from the private investigator about where my two younger sisters were. I think my mind has already readied itself for the worst. And for the few days that I’ve been waiting for a call back, the shelter hasn’t been busy, so it’s not like I’ve had anything to keep my mind occupied.

 

I made it through the rest of the day, fed the animals that needed feeding, gave the few that needed it their medication. And now that my obligation to the animals has been taken care of, i can sit with a book and finally clear my head.

I only got maybe half a page into my book when my phone rang.

 

“Hello?” I start, with a crack in my voice. The man on the other end is the private investigator. Finally.

“Yes, I finally have some information about the two names you gave me. It seems that Regina was in the foster system for a whole and was adopted by a man named Clint Silver Jackson about a years ago,” I realize I’ve been holding my breath and try to let it out without alarming the detective. “Avery on the other hand, I’ve got a birth certificate and a missing person’s case that was filed by the South Side elementary school… but nothing else. After 10 years the police department has definitely stopped looking.”

 

I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Could Avery be dead? How could this have happened? She wasn’t in the car crash because if she was they would have had _something_. Did she run away? She didn’t attend school at all after her parents died, so death for an 8 year old on the streets tragically isn’t out of the realm of possibilities. I speak back into the phone and ask if it’s possible to get in touch with Mr. Clint Jackson.

 

“Yeah, sure, I’d be careful with that guy though, rumor has it he runs a small crime operation in downtown Los Santos.” I dismiss his remark and accept the number anyway. I might have lost one sister, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay separated from my youngest any longer.

 

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

 

Today is the day I see Regina again and my armpits feel like they’re dripping with sweat. I smoked a half a bowl this morning to help my nerves but even that has little to no effect. Mr. Jackson and his sick wife walk into the shelter with Regina right behind. Her hair isn’t as blonde as it used to be, but she still looks the same.

 

“Is this the one? He’s so cute!” she exclaims, not even looking at me. I had almost forgotten about the large husky sitting nicely next to me. It was Vivyan Jackson’s idea to lure her here with the surprise of getting a rescue. I swallow a build up saliva and look over at her adoptive parents, a pain in my soul. Will she recognize me?

 

I think Mr. Jackson understands and speaks to Regina, “Yes, but why don’t you thank Sandra, the lovely lady who kept this dog healthy until he found his way into our family.” She looked up at me with a thank you on her tongue but she stopped, confused. She did recognize me, but she wasn’t sure from where. She looked at her parents for some sort of answer, but then looked back at me with hesitance.

 

“Sandra? Like… my sister?” So she does remember me, even if she doesn’t recognize what I look like after all these years apart. I start crying and nod my head, her face goes from shocked to excited as she throws her arms around me.

 

“You found me!” she says, like she’s waiting for me this entire time. I don’t know if it’s heartwarming or sad. I like to think that after all this time she didn’t lose hope.

 

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

 

It’s been 3 years since I’ve been back in Regina’s life, but I’ve been a part of the family ever since. So it’s really hard for me to sit here next to Vivyan’s hospital bed and see so much sadness in everyone’s eyes. Regina is next to her, trying to stay strong but the tears cascade down defiantly as she listens to the words coming out of the only mother she’s ever remembered.

 

“I know we were going to wait for you to turn 18 before you got involved with the business, but I think your father is going to need you now. I know as a child you would would watch from far away, but you always knew that you’d be the one that worked while they all played. While you were in the foster system, I know you’d lay awake at night and scheme of all the things that you would change and at the time it was just a dream. But here we are, please don’t turn away now, we are the warriors that built this town.” The tears break way in both of our eyes.

 

Regina cuts her off, sobbing, “But what if I can’t without you, what if I spend all that time building myself within the ranks, and when Dad lets me take over, they still don’t respect me?” Vivyan coughs loudly, but then strokes Regina’s hair, her other hand clasped on mine.

 

“The time will come,” Vivyan continues, “when you will have to rise above the best and prove yourself. But your spirit never dies. You will be loved, respected, successful. I know you well, my darling.” She coughs more and this time blood comes out. I myself start sobbing, knowing that the window is closing. We all sense it.

 

“Farewell my darlings,” she says, weakly, “it’s time to take my throne above. But don’t weep for me because this will be the labor of my love. We are the the warriors that built this town from dust. We are strong, and we will always prevail.” We both hug her tightly, Clint walks the door and rushes in to hug her too. We all let go several seconds later and share some tearful smiles.

 

“I love you,” I say, wishing I had met this amazing woman earlier in my life. I”’m forever grateful that you found Regina and took care of her.”

 

Vivyan smiled, “That’s the one good thing that came out of this ovarian cancer. You girls watch out for each other, now go, I don’t want you last memory of me being an awful image.” I stood up and dragged a reluctant Regina out of the room with me. I hugged her in the hall and drove us home.

 

That night, while we were eating in silence, I got a call from Clint Jackson. She was gone for good. When hung up, Regina knew. She calmly got up from the table and went into her room. I followed her in and just sat next to her bed rubbing her back as she cried.

 

^^ ^^ ^^ ^^

 

I sit at the head table next to Clint and his small council, as he stands up to make his retirement speech that everyone was expecting. From my chair, I had a clear line of sight to see Regina restless at a table near the back of the courtyard.

 

“We are all here today because many of you can’t wait to see me fuck off already,” he began with a smirk, the group of criminals laughed, knowing his statement to be in jest. “But the question still remains, who will be my successor? I’ve heard a rumor around that one of my daughters will be taking over. Which I will admit is true. You all know that Sandra likes her place as rehabilitator to all you sorry saps who want a ‘normal’ life.”

 

He makes a disgusted face that gets more laughs, even one from me this time. “‘But Clint,’ you mother fuckers might ask, ‘your other daughter isn’t involved with the family business, how the fuck are we going to trust some bitch we don’t know?’ To that I say: fuck you, dick bags we’ve been playin ya the whole time! Regina why don’t you come up here.”

 

With shocked murmurs from the crowd, Regina stands up and walks to the head table. Huge smile on her face. They all start clapping, most of all the people who were at her table with her.

 

“That’s right ya idiots,” Clint continues after clapping dies down, “Regina was my daughter, why do you think she kept her personal life such a secret. She’s been taking the last 4 years to get a team together and go up the ranks. And now with her team at 1st place in the ‘getting shit done’ category, it’s only fitting that they all get promoted as Regina’s very own council.”

 

“If they want, of course.” Regina adds. Her team stands up and rushes her in the front and all hugs her while everyone else starts cheering and applauding again. I find myself applauding with them, despite having already known that this was going to happen since all those years ago.


	5. Avery (Silberman) Smith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows Avery and her new life

Now that I’m finally out of the hell hole that was the state penitentiary, I’m expected to get a job and shit. Get a haircut Avery,  get some decent clothing with the money you don’t have Avery, Get an apartment with the lump sum of two hundred dollars that we gave you for food and shelter Avery. It’s almost like they just want me back in the prison. But not this time. This time I’m going to get a normal life _and_  get better at stealing so I can take as much out of capitalism as I can. Best to get a good disguise though.

 

I’ve decided I’m going to chop all my curly brown hair off. Maybe people will take me seriously with short straight hair. But how will i be able to pull this off? I realize that I have a a huge stash of money near where my old gang was. Tonight I’m going to go there and take some of the money to buy a gun. I don’t have much of a plan yet, but I do know that work at the florist and boutique starts on Monday. I’ll save plenty of money up, work long hours, and then after I have starting cash I’ll be on my way to stealing more money.

 

I’m riding the city bus to a stop close to a studio apartment that the “life coach” at the prison found for me. All the landlord wants for the first month’s rent is $100, which is only half of the money I got when they kicked me out of the prison. And with the starting salary of the new job I have, I can afford the $540 a month, all my health insurance, groceries, and furniture. And at the end of the month, I’ll have plenty to save a bunch up for a motorcycle. I mean, my first paycheck is going to be solely for household items, and then my next paycheck will be for a professional wardrobe. Man I really lucked out with this job. Despite coming out of prison, the guy who hired me really seemed desperate to get me hired as soon as possible. Ok, now I’m a little suspicious about this whole thing.

 

I get off the bus and walk about a block to the apartment that is to by my new home. All I have is the outfit they gave me for my interview and the outfit they arrested me in. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor for tonight. I’ll use the last $100 for a few outfits I can mix and match until I get my first paycheck. But before that I should check out how much money i saved up, if no one has found it yet. I make my way up the elevator to the 4th floor and walk a few steps down a dingy hallway to the first door on my right.

 

I open the door and turn on the light. I walk directly into a hallway, the door to my left is a bathroom and straight across from it is a doorway into a small kitchen. THankfully all of the appliances are there and appear new. Past the end of the hallway, marked by the flush wall where the bathroom and kitchen end, is the siting slash sleeping area. It was a bit bigger than I thought it would be. Still small, but livable. As I sets my backpack down on the ground, I look out the window on the right side of the back wall and realize there is a fire escape. Awesome! A great place for a mini garden.

 

I take my black sweatshirt and black boots out of my backpack and put them on. If I want to go get that money and stay out of the gang by there, I’m going to have to be stealthy and keep my identity a secret. I really hope I don’t run into anyone. And if I remember schedules correctly, I will have a 15 minute window where no one is around my hiding spot. I lock the door behind me and walk out onto the street. It’s so late at night by now I’ll have to walk halfway across the city to get to the money I’ve been saving up. I wonder how much money i saved up. I know I only took twenty dollars from each job and stashed the rest, but i never counted what was left and i sure as hell won’t be able to remember every cut from every job. I’m going to guess somewhere around a thousand, maybe two thousand. That’ll be enough for essentials to get me started.

 

I round the corner towards the street my alley is located. I should walk slowly just in case. And just as I suspected, there are two people walking away from me and down a hill. As soon as I feel I’m in the clear, I dash into the alleyway without a sound and duck beside the dumpster. I listen to hear that there are no footsteps yet and begin to slide the dumpster away from the wall. It’s empty, thankfully, but it still screeches against the concrete beneath it. Fuck. I stop for a moment, holding my breath, but hear nothing so i pull it out just a few more inches. On the brick wall I look for the brick with my little scratch marks. Finding it, I pull out the heavy stone and pause again to listen for people. Hearing nothing but a siren far off in the distance, I reach my hand into the hole I’ve made and breath a sigh of relief. There’s two wads of money in there, but just as I’m about to count them, I hear another two guys coming close. Shit, they made the time between rounds shorter. I pocket the money and run over to the fence at the pack of the alley and pull two of the wooden planks aside. Thank baby Jesus that worked. I’ll have to count the money at home, but until then: hopefully I still remember a safe way to get out of this territory.

 

I think it’s best I take the longer path to my apartment building. And just for good measure, I’ll walk around the block too. Now that I’m sure I haven’t been followed, I think it’s time to go inside and finally get some rest. It’s been a long day and i need to get used to heisting again. I lock the door behind me and throw my backpack on the ground and sit against the wall under the window. I pull out the first wad of cash and begin counting. Two hundred, seven hundred, a thousand, _five thousand_? By the time I’m done counting I have sixteen thousand one hundred and twenty-three dollars U.S. dollars in my hand. Wow, I was a great little saver back then. I look at the second wad that is a lot bigger than the first one. I count that and come to a total of $35,630. Holy shit.

 

\----------

 

I straighten my short hair. Dreading the day I have ahead of me. I have to meet a couple that don’t have a single clue what kind of wedding they want, I have to stake out a few different locations for a wedding that has a non-existent budget, and I have 2 targets to get to by 4 am. One of the targets will be a simple assassination, but the second one has information useful to the client. Oh shit and I also need to meet with a caterer at 5.

 

I get to work before the doors unlock, as usual, but this time everyone else is already there. My boss is standing there with a huge grin on his face. The 4 other men that work beside me were next to him with similar expressions. The clicking of my heels come to a stop as I look at them all in a quizzical manner.

 

“Sanford?” I finally find some words question my boss. “What are you guys doing here this early?” Sanford answers, keeping his shit eating grin intact.

 

“Well, as you know, I’m going to try to open up a new store in Liberty city, and I wanted to say that; instead of hiring someone new to manage this shop, I will be promoting you.” The 4 burly men started cheering and whistling. “Yeah the boys wanted to get here early to see your reaction. They all believe you deserve it.”

 

I start by hugging them all one by one, Gerard, Lawrence, Emanuele, and Kevin. But as I’m hugging them all I can think about is how much more work this is going to be for me. It’s hard enough to do the job I have now while being a merc for hire, but adding more work on top of that? The one good thing I can think of is that I can invite myself to more prestigious events and let myself into more secure areas in the name of Wedding and Event Planning. I think this will work out for me.

 

\----------

 

Now that my first day as regional manager is complete, I can do the work I really love to do. I put on a sports bra, a baggy black hoodie, baggy sweatpants with a cup and jockstrap, and heeled shoes that make me look taller. For the finishing touch, I put on some reflective sunglasses and a black bandana to hide my face. I wish I hadn’t come up with the idea to wear the cup, but it helps further hide my identity. No one is going to be looking for a cis woman when they think 1-800-468-6262 has a penis.

 

As I make my way to my first job on my motorcycle, I try to clear my mind. I like pretending to be someone else. Not talking, bring mysterious. It helps me keep my two live separate. Avery isn’t the one killing the occasional diplomat, or making sure some punk gets a message. That’s my alter-ego. People are starting to call him 1-800. I guess it’s easier than remembering the whole number they text. I don’t get as many jobs as I’d like, but gaining street cred takes time. Maybe I should leave my business cards with the target?

 

I stop at a red light, because I don’t want to get caught before a job, and I look over to my right to see the most disgusting looking car ever. It’s a nice low rider but the paint is all purple and orange. The driver has on a gaudy cowboy hat and a purple blazer. He sees me watching and nods. This is none other than “Rimmy Tim”, and if he’s out and about, that means the rest of the crew is out with him. Sure enough a chrome car with a vanity license plate pulls up behind Rimmy and a black car with the Fake AH logo pulls up behind me.

 

I rev my engine at Rimmy Tim. If there’s anything I’ve grown to like more than my night job, it’s messing with the crew that takes themselves too seriously. I give them a bit of light competition and they lose their shit. I think they have a hard time wrapping their head around a single person doing the same work as them and beating them to the punch.

 

The light turns green and he peels out as I make my leisurely left turn away from him. I chuckle to myself, getting giddy at the idea that he won’t know what’s happened until he stops, miles down the road, and his crew has to tell him there was never a race to begin with. I turn into an alley several minutes later and cut my engine. I use a storm drain pipe to get up to the top of the building to my left and try to control my breathing.

 

After getting to the roof, I run over to an adjacent roof and barrel roll silently. I do this a few more times until I’m about 3 blocks away from my motorcycle. ?I set up camp there with my silenced pistol and wait just a few minutes before i see my target come out of the club across the street. I wait for him to get in front of an alley before bipping him in the side of the head. I climb down the ladder of this building to go and take the wallet of the man who owed too much money to a drug dealer in San Andreas.

 

Now it looks like a mugging gone wrong. I make sure to leave a few stab marks and bruises to be extra sure. The coroner in the Los Santos is famously lazy, so the more details pointing to mugging, the better. I make my way to my bike and the rest of my night begins

 

\----------

 

I absentmindedly flatten out my already straightened hair when a elderly woman walks into the shop. I recognize her as a regular that visits at least once a week to look at what types of floral accessories we have and inquire about any new species we might have in stock. Right behind her is a younger gentleman who I can only describe as the modern version of the Monopoly man.

 

“Hey there Annabelle!” I say cheerily, she looks at me with a soft smile and turns to her companion.

 

“This is my son, Roger,” she begins, making her way to the counter where I stand. “He has a huge fundraising event going on this year, I couldn’t think of anyone better to suggest managing this than my good friend at Wedding and Event Planning.” I smile back at her and turn my attention to Roger.

 

“So what kind of planning will you need?” We start going over all the requirements Roger had for venue, food, decorations, and sound systems.

 

He’s pretty cheery with me but he seems to be undermining and condescending towards his mother and everything she said during our meeting. When we were finally done going through a brief summary of what he was looking for, Roger tells me that he'll think everything over and get back to me. He takes my business card and walks out without even a word to Annabelle, who is thanking me and has to run out to catch up to him. Something about this guy seemed off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I just know working with him won’t be anything like working with his mom is. I spend the rest of my day business as usual until night time.

 

I lock up the shop and head home, checking the flip phone I use to do deals with as so as I lock my front door. Not a lot to do so I’ll get a little bit more sleep than normal. I put on my androgynous outfit and set out for the night. I’m driving down the road on my motorcycle when I almost crash into a chrome sports car. The window rolls down and the driver in a skull mask yells at me, “Watch where you’re fucking going!” The one called the Vagabond doesn’t even wait for my answer before he speeds off, leaving me in the middle of an intersection. Which ended up being unfortunate for the LSPD as they have to swerve around me or screech to a hult before I speed off myself: widening the gap between the police and part of the Fake AH Crew. After that encounter, it’s business as usual yet again.

 

\----------

 

After weeks of waiting for Roger to get back in touch with me, he’s finally come in to make his demands. He was very abrasive and uncompromising, but he’s finally gone and I can take a break. This is the last time I have to deal with him until the actual galla next week and I am happy for the break from this wasp of a human. I sit down on the stool behind the counter and drink some tea for a while. The shop is empty for a while until two men walk in and go directly to my assortment of seedlings on the rack.

 

One man is tall and has a black hair tied back in a pony tail, his natural color showing in the roots. Adorned with jeans and a leather jacket he glances at me with piercing blue eyes. He is a threatening presence, but something about him seems familiar to me. The second man is almost as short as me but with an advantage of a few inches. He's wearing jeans and an orange shirt, and atop his head a cowboy hat. This man I recognize instantly as Rimmy Tim trying to go undercover. He smirks a little at my welcoming smile and walks over with an awkward swagger.

 

"Hello ma'am, my friend and I are here to ask you for some information about one of your customers." I look at him with quizzical smile. Trying to make it seem like I don't know who he is or what he's up to. Never the less I reply.

 

"Well, I'm sorry sir I can't really give away too much information." He responded with an understanding smile and continued his inquisition.

 

"You see," he turns to his partner, who has walked up and stood behind Rimmy, and looks back at me, "we were told by our lovely friend Roger Briggs that he's having a big party! We were thinking about throwing our own party there sometime too and we just wanted to know what building it is so we can check it out before coming to a decision." He then put both of his elbows and all of his weight onto the counter, leaning in really close and looking me dead in the eye unblinking. I pretend to be flustered by this small stare down and ask why he couldn't get the information from Roger himself. To this he shakes his head and starts again, "You see, we already tried that but our friend Roger is a really busy man and hasn't been answering his phone."

 

I smiled at him, convincing him that I thought this was a noble cause and turned to the computer to let him know the address. Rimmy Tim thanks me and leaves we a more chipper swagger as he and his large associate leave. 

 

The next day, not 24 hours later, Annabelle shows up and just kind of saunters around my shop. Not acknowledging or even looking at me.

 

“What, no hello today? I’m happy to say that I’ve been able to accommodate your son with no problems at all!” I start with a chipper attitude. Annabelle looks at me sullenly and sighs before the tears start streaming down her face.

 

“I apologise, my dear. It’s just that the last thing I have left from my late husband seems to have been stolen from me.” She walks up to the count putting a plant on the counter and her face in her hands. “It was a necklace that he gave me on our first date, it was the nicest thing I owned at the time, but now it’s all I have of any kind of value.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I start, trying to sooth her sorrow with a hand on her shoulder but she interrupts with a sob, “the worst part is im pretty sure my Roger is the one who took it, but the police won’t listen to me, they just think I forgot where it was in my old age.” She looks up at me and attempts to wipe away the tears now softly rolling down her face.

 

“Don’t worry, Annabelle,” I reply with a fire burning in my eyes, “I’m sure he’ll have a change of heart.” She smiles at me, warmth in every muscle that she uses.

 

“What a wonderful sentiment, let’s hope so.” She pays and walks out of the door, still sad but not without hope. Little does she know that I’ve just accepted her as a client. Lucky her, this’ll be the first one I do as a favor. Who knows, maybe I can get some form of payment out of the dearest Roger.


End file.
